


bigger than these bones

by 152glasslippers



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Daisy thinks Robbie is dead, F/M, Infinity War AU, Not Really Character Death, POV Multiple, Post-Season/Series 04, Pre-Relationship, Season 5 AU, but he's not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 18:30:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11880324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/152glasslippers/pseuds/152glasslippers
Summary: She dropped to the ground on her hands and knees. She closed her eyes and took deep heaving breaths, searching for the feeling that Robbie was really gone, that this would be the one he wouldn’t walk away from. That this would be the time he didn’t come back to her.Because that was what he did, what he had done, since they’d met.Post-season 4/season 5 AU. Takes place during the (imagined) events of Infinity War. With the Avengers battling Thanos elsewhere, the fight for Earth is left to Shield. In the course of the attack, Daisy thinks Robbie dies. He doesn’t. (Pre-Relationship)





	bigger than these bones

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a conversation with my friend Bippo, for whom this is a birthday gift. Happy birthday, my dear! ENJOY THE ANGST.

It was different than the explosion in the fireworks shop where James worked.

It was worse. Much worse.

Those were just fireworks, blasting through the paper roof of a tinderbox; a building still standing as flames burst through its windows, Robbie inside it.

This was a bomb, an explosion of flame and smoke and ash and dust. Enough energy to destroy a dozen stories’ worth of structure; enough force to bring down hundreds of thousands of tons of steel and concrete, Robbie underneath it.

She watched from just outside the blast radius. She’d started toward the building instinctively, but Yoyo had pulled her back before she had a hope of fighting or reacting, outmatching her with speed. Daisy was screaming, out-of-her-mind hysterical, one thought running on repeat.

_Not again_.

But this felt different than it had with Lincoln. That had been shock and guilt and shame. Despair.

This was devastation. That immediately bled into rage.

Coulson, Mack, and May had evacuated any remaining civilians out of the buildings in the area as soon as they’d arrived on scene, leaving her and Yoyo and Robbie to handle their guests: foot soldiers in the centuries’ old war Robbie had mentioned over a year ago. Fitz was running coms and satellites from above; Jemma was tending to the already wounded, more than half a mile away. There was no one left who needed saving.

She felt the scream this time at the bottom of her spine. It ripped through her and tore from her throat.

She brought down the entire city block.

It was stronger than her first avalanche, bigger and worse than anything she’d ever done under Hive’s sway. It was every pane of glass she’d ever shattered, every wall she’d ever crumbled, every pulse she’d ever felt, times a thousand. She found the vibration of every stone in every building and amplified it. They collapsed from the ground up, imploding.

The beings left alive—from the other galaxy, that other world—whipped their heads in every direction, searching for the source. They found her. She waved them on with a grin and became an explosion herself, every bit the agent May had trained her to be, every bit as ruthless as her own mother. Today, May would tell her later, was the day she joined the cavalry.

She didn’t bother counting how many surged toward her, had no idea whether Yoyo was still with her, still fighting. She lost track of the punches she threw, the shockwaves she sent. She breathed through every hit, every attack, a focused fury.

And then there was no one left to fight, just a circle of bodies. And she felt empty.

She dropped to the ground on her hands and knees. She closed her eyes and took deep heaving breaths, searching for the feeling that Robbie was really gone, that this would be the one he wouldn’t walk away from. That this would be the time he didn’t come back to her.

Because that was what he did, what he had done, since they’d met.

He didn’t come back _for_ her. Robbie came back for the next score, for the Rider. He came back for himself, for Gabe. But she was the direction he pointed himself in as soon as his feet found solid ground.

And they’d never said anything about it.

There was a scuffle to her left, a stirring of gravel and rubble against pavement. She shifted her weight to one hand and threw the other out next to her, ready to quake whoever or whatever had made the noise, not even bothering to turn her head and look. It wouldn’t be anyone friendly, not coming from that direction. There was no one left.

She never got the chance.

Sure fingers, warm and strong, wrapped around her outstretched hand, closing it into a fist. A smooth hand, not the touch of skin.

Fabric. Leather.

She lifted her head.

“Robbie?”

\---

His mouth was dry. His lips, his lungs—it felt like he’d eaten a box of chalk, every inch of them coated in dust.

He really hadn’t needed to know what concrete tasted like.

He groaned at the weight on top of him, a whole building’s worth. He hadn’t lost consciousness when the building blew, but he had come back to himself in the time it’d taken for what was left of it to settle. A growl ripped from his chest, the Rider this time. It was pissed. It didn’t like being trapped.

Robbie was strong—and the devil was stronger—but moving a building off his body was going to take a minute.

The ground started to shake underneath him, pieces of the building shifting above and around him, falling to the side, vibrating past each other. The shaking grew more profound, heavier, until it reached a peak, making his ears ring. It lasted longer than was natural.

Daisy.

She knew he was in here. Was she trying to quake the wreckage off of him? She’d kill herself before she could move it. He was at the very bottom.

_Don’t do it, Daisy. Don’t do it. I’m coming for you._

The tremors shifted the rocks just enough that he was able to free his right arm, and his left. He hauled the slab of concrete off his chest, took a moment just to breathe. His legs took more effort, but the uneven debris gave him enough leverage to lift and yank them out, curling into himself.

Now he needed an exit.

He followed the pockets of air, moving from one crevice to the next, stuffing himself through open spaces, the ground still shaking intermittently. He pushed his way through with his whole body—arms, legs, back—steadying himself against other pieces of the building, letting loose another grunt, another yell, each time. If he hadn’t spent months in hell, he wouldn’t have had the patience for it.

He pulled himself out near the bottom of the mountain of rubble, less than a story to climb down to reach the ground. He checked his arms, hands, chest, the leather scuffed but not torn. So his jacket was damage-proof now, too. Slightly surprising, but not altogether unbelievable. He rubbed his hands over his face. Probably bruised to all hell, but no blood. They’d be gone tomorrow.

And then he finally looked around.

The street was unrecognizable, every structure in the block leveled to the ground, a wasteland of rock and dust. And there, five hundred feet in the distance, Daisy. The only living thing left standing.

So that was what he’d felt.

He headed straight for her, body aching, the stretch in his muscles a welcome pain. He paid no attention to the bodies he stepped over.

She heard him coming, or felt it. She put out a hand to defend herself, the other holding her upright where she’d collapsed on her knees, eyes on the ground. He took one more large, hurried stride toward her and closed his hand around hers. Her head jerked up immediately.

“Robbie?” Her eyes were wide, a hollowness in them slowly replaced with a disbelief he couldn’t fathom. Tears started to form along her lower lashes.

She tugged her hand out from under his, grabbing his forearm, pulling herself up. She tightened her grip on him and reached out with her other hand, fingers digging in to the leather of his jacket. She took a step forward and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him into her, pressing herself to him.

He felt every inch of contact between them: her hands splayed against his back, her cheek against his, her chest, her hips, her legs. She had never held him—never touched him—like this before.

He wound his arms around her, his fingers curling around opposite sides of her torso. He took a deep breath, felt her body move with his inhale, exhale.

“Robbie,” she whispered again. Her breath washed over his ear, the back of his neck. Her voice trembled. She was shaking slightly. He squeezed his arms tighter around her.

He understood now.

“It’s okay, chica. I’m okay.” He closed his eyes and turned his head, pressing his face into her hair.

He would have stood with her like that for hours, but after a few minutes, she seemed to return to herself, and when her fingers flexed against his back, he loosened his arms, dropped them to his sides as she took a step back.

But not too far.

Her skin was flushed pink, like she was embarrassed by the interaction. Her eyes flicked over his face, everywhere but his eyes. Taking in the dust and bruises. There were matching tear streaks on each of her cheeks.

He ducked his head a little to meet her eyes. “I can’t get hurt, you know?” He raised his eyebrows, let a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. Trying to break the tension, feeling a little shy himself suddenly.

Her next words were emphatic, dire, as if each one caused her pain.

“You were crushed under a building.” She shook her head a little, lifted her shoulder in the smallest of shrugs, her eyes searching his, at a loss.

“It didn’t stop me. It won’t.”

They stared at each other for a long moment. He didn’t know what she saw, what she was trying to find, but he hoped for a sign, some recognition, that she heard what he was trying to tell her, the silent promise he was really making: He would never leave unless he had to, and he would never be gone permanently. Even when she thought—or feared—he wouldn’t come back, he always would.

Finally, she nodded, and a hint of the mischievous Daisy broke out across her face. She took a step toward him, arching one eyebrow. “It better not.”

It was a plea and a warning, all in one.

With that decided, she turned and headed in the direction where the team was waiting in safety, her body brushing against his as she moved past.

He fell into place behind her.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
